


Sherlolly 7: Pajamas

by George_Sand



Series: George_Sand Sherlolly Series 1 [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breasts, Coffee, F/M, Mature but always sweet and gentle, Slow Burn, Virgin Sherlock, flannels, shirtless Molly, shirtless sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 23:15:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9464837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/George_Sand/pseuds/George_Sand
Summary: Sherlock finds Molly at home in her pajamas.  Things progress.Part 7 of George_Sand Sherlolly Series 1. Please read the series in order, they build on each otherSherlock eyes Molly's clothing and says, “It’s only 7:30 in the evening.  Why are you in your pajamas?  And my robe?”“Because I spilled all over myself and thought I might as well change,” haughtily, to cover her embarrassment, then playfully, “Because you haven’t asked for it back.”Sherlock holds her in Their way.  He moves his hands up and down her back and notices how smooth it is.  There are no bra straps.  As this registers, Molly wiggles out of the robe’s sleeves and says, “Nope” with a self-satisfied smile.Sherlock’s brow furrows as he looks into Molly’s eyes, almost confused, and says hesitantly, “May I?”Molly replies gently, “Yes. Please.”





	

          Molly leaves her bathroom, rubbing lotion on her hands, to find Sherlock sitting at the kitchen table.  Her hands fly to her throat but she suppresses a squeak as she discovers him.  As he watches her come toward him, he half-smiles to see her wearing his robe.  It’s huge on her.  Under it, she has flannels and the ubiquitous small tee-shirt on, obviously in her pajamas already.

           She quickly recovers.  “Sherlock, if you’re going to use your contraband keys you could at least make some noise as you come in!  You’re lucky I didn’t hit you!” 

           Sherlock’s eyes follow hers to the knife block on the kitchen counter, and he suddenly realizes that Molly is a single, petite woman, living alone in the middle of London.  A weighty fear settles on his shoulders, but is slightly eased by a memory of Molly slapping him, hard and repeatedly.  He decides (or hopes) that if threatened by an intruder, she could do some serious damage. 

           Wanting to change the subject in his head, he eyes her clothing and says, “Molly, it’s only 7:30 in the evening.  Why are you in your pajamas?  And my robe?”

            “Because I spilled all over myself and thought I might as well change,” haughtily, to cover her embarrassment, then playfully, “Because you haven’t asked for it back.”

           She has made her way into the kitchen and has been absently looking in the fridge.  “Coffee?”

            “What kind?”

            “Literal or otherwise”

            “I’ll take otherwise.”

            “Where would you like it”?

           Sherlock looks around for a second, “The counter?”

           Molly gladly closes the fridge and hops lightly onto the counter.  Sherlock stands between her knees and holds her in Their way.  Molly willingly melts into Sherlock’s chest and he can feel the inaudible mew that he loves.  He moves his hands up and down her back and notices how smooth it is.  There are no bra straps.  As this registers, Molly wiggles out of the robe’s sleeves, sits up straight, and says, “Nope” with a self-satisfied smile. 

           Sherlock’s brow furrows as he looks into Molly’s eyes, almost confused, and says hesitantly, “May I?”

           Molly replies gently, “Yes. Please.”

          Staring into her eyes almost fearfully, Sherlock sees that Molly’s gaze is open and she’s smiling.   Sherlock encircles Molly’s ribs with his hands, on top of her shirt, then gently drags his thumbs over her breasts.  Molly blinks slowly and exhales as he brushes her nipples, then opens her eyes to Sherlock’s astounded face.  Still smiling, she raises her eyebrows and nods encouragingly.  Sherlock repeats the move and is amazed to feel her nipples harden under his thumbs.  Glancing down, he can see them protruding against her thin tee-shirt.  Sherlock’s hands slide down Molly’s sides and carefully grasp the hem of her shirt. Her eyes sparkle before she ducks her head, rounding her back to make his work easier.  The cotton slips from her body to the floor and she sits up straight.

           Molly is beautiful.  Reverently, Sherlock cups one of his hands around Molly’s breast, his other arm around her back.  His temple rests on her cheek as he watches the heel of his hand knead and push her breast, Molly responding by pushing into his hand when he applies pressure.  After a moment, Sherlock takes his hand away and uses only his fingertips to brush her nipple, feeling her shiver.  His other fingers brush her other nipple, eliciting another shiver.  Molly’s head falls back as Sherlock begins using both hands to massage both breasts.  With each movement, Molly pushes back, until hands and chest undulate together. 

           Sherlock says, “Molly, I love you.”  

          “Thank you,” she replies, with a look that is both proud and grateful.  She knows she’s small but shapely, and she’s happy that Sherlock approves.

            “No, Molly, I love you.”

            “And I love you…but fair is fair,” and she unbuttons his shirt and pushes it off his shoulders.  Molly slides off the counter and holds Sherlock’s hand as she leads him to her bed.  She lies down and Sherlock straddles her. 

            “What do you like?” He asks, humbly, knowing he is out of his depth.

            “Just keep going,” she says encouragingly, and his hands slide up her stomach and ribs to cover her breasts again.  Now, with the support of the mattress under her, Sherlock can knead harder and with more range of motion.  He experiments with a few gentle squeezes, noting Molly’s aroused exhale as she closes her eyes.

           He looks at his hands and feels a moment of surrealism as he lifts them to hover over Molly, centers of his palms just grazing her peaked nipples.  He moves his palms in small circles, chafing her nipples, and Molly shudders and rounds her back before arching it and opening her eyes.     

           “Oooo, I like it” she says, almost panting. 

            “Me too.”

           Recovering a bit, Molly says “Let’s try something…” and pushes her palms up against Sherlock’s pectorals.  She spreads her fingers wide and positions his nipples between the knuckles of her third and fourth fingers, on both sides.  Hands flat, squeezing and rolling her straightened fingers together, she pinches and works Sherlock’s nipples and he understands that she wants him to do the same to her.  Sherlock doesn’t particularly like it on his body, but is impatient to try it on Molly’s.  He puts one hand on hers to still it, whispering “No thank you, Love, but allow me.”

           He mimics her movements and almost immediately Molly arches her back high and makes several high-pitched hums.  Sherlock continues, as does her humming, but her brow furrows and her eyes squeeze shut.  Concerned that he’s hurting her, Sherlock immediately gentles, but Molly’s eyes fly open desperately and she utters a strangled moan of complaint.  Sherlock understands and can’t help but smile as he resumes and Molly sinks back into her pleasure. 

           Suddenly, she half-sits and grabs Sherlock’s shoulders with surprising force.  One of her hands moves up into his hair as she lays back down, dragging her with him.  It’s only too obvious what she wants.  She bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut as his mouth meets her breast.  Sherlock leans most of his weight on his forearm and his other hand rests quietly on one breast as his mouth works the other.  He opens his mouth wide and takes as much of her as he can.  He works his tongue all around the areola before using it to tickle her nipple.  He licks, sucks, kisses, nibbles, blows, and does whatever he can to draw out Molly’s high-pitched hums.

            “Sheh…” she starts, but his name gets lost in her panting and humming.            

           He whispers back “Molly”, lips moving across her skin.  Remembering their previous experience when her breast was covered, Sherlock kneads it with his forehead and cheek, and presses his eye socket onto her nipple.  He is nuzzling hard when he feels Molly’s hand push his head roughly to her other side.  Sherlock smiles, takes a deep breath, and plunges into the other breast.  Again doing whatever it takes to make Molly hum and moan, Sherlock feels a joy and a satisfaction he’s never felt before.  Giving Molly this much pleasure is a delight for him.  He is amazed to see the pure, raw, physical reactions he draws from her.  He can be confident because he believes Molly will guide him as to what she likes and doesn’t like, and he is humbled by the trust and vulnerability she is showing him. 

           Although their hips don’t align when Sherlock’s face is at Molly’s breasts, he is firm and pulses with each particularly loud moan.  He guesses that Molly is warm for him and curiously slides his face down onto her soft stomach.  His hands find hers and he puts them on his neck, showing her that she has control.  He turns his head to the side and slowly brushes his cheek down over her thin flannels, letting it rest on her mound.  Molly’s hands have neither pushed nor pulled, and she is silent and still, and Sherlock asks permission to continue resting there with one word. 

            “Love?”

           The breathy “Yes,” is all he needs to relax into his position.  Her mound under the soft part of his cheek, he can faintly smell her, and he knows she is more than ready.  Inhaling deeply to memorize her scent, Sherlock closes his eyes and allows his imagination to run wild for a few seconds.  Then, rising to his hands and knees, he looks up at Molly.  He finds her looking back at him, smiling. 

            “Now, what do you need?”  She asks. 

           Sherlock shakes his head, “To calm down.”

           He moves up to lay by her side.  He puts his hand, not to her breast, but to lie over her heart. 

            “Thank you, Molly.”

           She bursts into laughter, “My pleasure, Love!”

**Author's Note:**

> This work has not been beta-ed, feel free to leave constructive criticism!


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